


How To Fall In Love With A Biker (The Enjolras Way)

by TheSecretFangirl



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Les Miserables Reverse Bang, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining, Pining Enjolras, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecretFangirl/pseuds/TheSecretFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a biker. Enjolras has a crush on him.</p><p>Or, the five stages through which Enjolras falls in love with Grantaire.<br/>(Plus one where Grantaire loves him back.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Biker’s Aura (Romance)

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many people to thank for the existence of this fic:
> 
> 1) First and foremost, [Jay](http://bahoreal.tumblr.com/), whose wonderful artwork inspired this fic. It would not exist without pers art. 
> 
> 2) My beta readers, [Lily](http://biscottmccall.tumblr.com/) and tumblr user [enjolas](http://enjolas.tumblr.com), who painstakingly went over every comma and conjunction, to help make the fic read smoother. They also gave me little pointers on characterization and plot, which made the fic much better. 
> 
> 3) [Aleksandra](http://quicsilverpietro.tumblr.com/), who helped with the little bit of Polish that exists in this fic.
> 
> 4) [Delaney](http://montparnah.tumblr.com/), who gave me permission to paraphrase one of their text posts in this fic.
> 
> 5) And last but not the least, [Felix](http://feliciores.tumblr.com/), whose artwork is included in the fic and inspired one of the scenes.
> 
> All of you are amazing people, and deserve applause. Thank you very much.

7 April 2014

"Are you sure you are going to be okay, Gav? You don’t have to testify if you don’t want to,” Enjolras tells the twelve year old about two weeks before the proceedings start.

Gavroche rolls his eyes and gives him a Gav-smirkTM.

“Of course, I will be fine! We’ve been over this multiple times, Enjolras. You are my attorney; you should trust me by now. Besides, my biker friends are coming over to meet you soon, and they will stay with me during the session. When you meet them you will see that they are way scarier than those Patron-Minette idiots, so no, I am not worrying.”

Enjolras scowls at Gavroche for talking about his abusers so blithely.

“Oh right, those bikers,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, the bikers.”

Gavroche crosses his arms, and leans back in his chair. His look suggests that he gets the final word on this matter (as always), and Enjolras is not welcome to speak up again.

The street gang, Patron-Minette, had been using Gavroche as an intermediary for drug smuggling. His father had been involved with the illegal operation as well, so Gavroche had no parental support against whatever punishment was lashed out to him when he refused to comply. His two assigned bikers from ‘Bikers Against Child Abuse International’ had been his only support against Patron-Minette, before his sister Eponine had noticed what was going on, and brought his case to ‘Les Amis de l’ABC Solicitors’. The lawyers had immediately taken up the case, and after a long course of thorough investigation, they had come up with enough evidence to brand Patron-Minette to prison forever. Meanwhile, Gavroche took shelter at Enjolras and Courfeyrac’s shared apartment.

The hearing against Patron-Minette would take place in two weeks. Now though, Gavroche’s two bikers were coming to meet Enjolras and Courfeyrac, because Gavroche wanted them to stay with him during the proceedings. Enjolras was a bit apprehensive about this. It is not that he thought they were bad people, he just believed that they should have intervened earlier if they knew what Gavroche was going through.

A doorbell rings, and Courfeyrac’s cheery shout startles him. “Enjolras! Those biker dudes are here! They want to meet you.”

“Coming!”

He turns to look at Gavroche, and the little imp winks at him.

“You go on. I’ve been meeting them for months.”

Enjolras walks out of the room, and is greeted with the sight of Courf chatting animatedly with two men standing by the door. Both of them are wearing dark jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets with the words B.A.C.A. printed on the back.

Courfeyrac looks up when he spots Enjolras come out of his room. He beckons him over.

“Oh hey, Enjolras! Look, this is Bahorel.” He points to a brawny man with a crew cut, sharp Arabesque features, and watery grey eyes. The man holds out his hand for Enjolras to shake.

“Nice to meet you at last. Gavroche speaks highly of you,” Enjolras says with a tight smile. Being polite is not naturally easy for him; he prefers giving large-scale passionate speeches to private conversations. He would also rather cut the small talk and get to the crux of the matter. However, as he grew older, he realized that sometimes small talk is exactly what you need to sway people to your side. It took him a lot of trouble and careful observation to learn the right things to say in social situations, and now the statement he makes seems to do the trick with Bahorel.

The guy laughs, and then bellows with a twinkle in his eye, “Oh, I am sure Gavroche does.”

Enjolras looks at the other man, and is about to introduce himself when Courf gestures towards him and says, “This is Grantaire.”

The man is short, and has messy black hair. A few curls fall over the left side of his face, curtaining it. Even though he is not as beefy as Bahorel, something about the way he carries himself screams _biker_.

This man holds out his hand as well, and Enjolras takes it.

“Hello Enjolras! Please, call me R.” The voice is husky, and Enjolras finds himself strangely enchanted by it.

Now, Enjolras is a charming young man capable of being terrible, and he is perfectly aware of that fact, thank you very much. He also knows that he is good looking by societal standards, thank you again. Young people of all genders trying to flock around him on the rare occasions he goes to a bar are evidence enough. But no one _ever_ has the gall to claim that Enjolras is attracted to any of those people. Because usually, he is not.

Until now, that is. Enjolras is not sure if it is attraction, per se, but something about the voice, which had spoken just six words to him, feels mesmerizing. He still hasn’t replied back though, and he does not want to be awkward, so he calmly says, “Alright, R it is!”

The four men settle down, and Enjolras, being Enjolras, pushes all thoughts of the man’s charming voice to the back of his mind. It was probably a temporary crush; he tended to get those occasionally and they always vanished pretty soon. He was sure this one would go away by the end of the meeting. He has more important things to talk about now, like Gavroche’s court case and Patron-Minette. He would deal with his feelings, if he could even call them those, later.

Besides, bikers (even if they work for protecting children) are so not his type.

The meeting starts and things seem to go on smoothly, until R interrupts one of his clauses with incredulous raised eyebrows and a snort. Enjolras immediately pauses because no one has _ever_ dared to mock him when he makes one of his well-built arguments. He also goes red when he realizes that he finds the snort a little bit cute, and that should definitely not be happening. He is not the kind of person who finds things about others cute. This is clearly a crisis situation, and he deals with it the way he deals with other crises: by putting on his undefeated death glare (the very one he practices in front of a mirror for hours, and nope he is not admitting that either) and facing R.

“Excuse me, R. Did you want to say something?” His oddly cool voice contrasts with his expression.

“Yeah, just that the strategy you are suggesting? I don’t think it would exactly work. You need a different, less righteous angle to prove your point here.” R leans back into his chair, and folds his arms behind his neck. The stretch of neck is golden and glorious, and Enjolras is suddenly reminded of wheat fields in full bloom. His mind should not make such comparisons when one of his precious arguments is at stake and he is very aware of that fact. He takes a calming breath and wills himself to focus on the subject at hand.

“And why is that, Mr. Grantaire? Last I heard, I was the lawyer with two years of experience and you were a biker.”

“Touché,” is all Grantaire says and this rubs Enjolras off the wrong way. Everything about R makes him confused and he is about to explode, when Courf, bless his darling heart, puts a comforting hand on his thigh.

“R, I think we all here would like to hear your reasons for disagreeing with us. Don’t you agree Enj,” Courf says diplomatically.

Some of Enjolras’ right senses have returned, so he nods and says, “Yes, please explain.”

R starts talking and Enjolras realizes that some of R’s points are very good indeed. He is surprised that he had not thought of taking that angle himself. Oh, he argues along to save his pride, but he knows that R is right. Oh well, things happen and he is not perfect.

He is still flustered about his weird _feelings_ from earlier and confused about his sudden outburst of anger, because Enjolras likes to keep his emotions in check. Right now though, all that matters is winning the case.

Sentiments come later, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter might not be the most interesting, but I promise, it gets better.


	2. The Biker’s Jacket (Power Shift)

22 May 2014

“For the last time, Gav, I am _not_ going to a silly bike show your ‘friends’-” Enjolras pauses to air quote around the word ‘friends’, “-are competing in.”

“Aww, come on, Enjolras. I know you looooooooove my biker friends. They even helped you win my case.

“Not that you couldn’t have done it without their help, I mean,” he adds, when he sees the slightly furious expression that has purposefully crossed Enjolras’ face.

“But they still helped you! And I know you and Bahorel got along very well. And R is a cool person too. I don’t understand why you avoid him.”

Enjolras’ breath slightly hitches when he hears R’s name and he disguises it with a weak attempt to clear his throat. It’s true though, while he talked at length with Bahorel during the course of their correspondence regarding Gavroche, and even invited him to his social justice meetings, he tried to stay as far from Grantaire as possible. Just looking at Grantaire means the return of Weird Feelings and Strange Attractions, and actually talking to him could be worse. Enjolras does not want that; it was bad enough the first time around. Besides, avoiding R is much easier than acknowledging what said thoughts might mean.

Gavroche has always been oddly perceptive though, so he picks up on Enjolras’ discomfort.

“Oooh, is there something going on with you and R? Is that why you barely talk to him? You are not the kind of person who hates people for no reason, and as far as I know, R has not done anything to make you hate him. Come on, there is more to this story Enjolras, and you simply can’t expect me to not ask you.”

Enjolras is thoroughly annoyed. His feelings are not up for discussion, and he points out as much to the kid.

“It’s none of your business, Gavroche.” His tone is stern, but Gavroche is one of the chosen few who are immune to it. He gives Enjolras another Gav-smirkTM.

“Hit on a nerve now, have I? You never call me Gavroche unless it’s something serious. What is it? What is it?” He starts jumping around in excitement.

“Shut up Gavroche!”

“No I shan’t! I’m going to tell Courf too that there is something going on with you.”

Enjolras almost doesn’t notice Gavroche sneak up to his shirt pocket and pull out his phone. Living on the streets and being forced to do illicit activities for so long has made Gavroche a very skilled thief.

“I’ll dial Courf right now!”

Enjolras snatches his phone out of Gavroche’s hands.

“You will do no such thing. And don’t you dare touch my phone again.”

Gavroche looks dejected for a moment, only a moment, because his smirk comes right back on. The look scares Enjolras, and he is sure he won’t like the next words Gavroche says.

“Alright, I’ll drop the question, but I have a condition. You have to come to the bike show with me and Courf. It’ll be fun!”

Sure enough, Enjolras does not like this, but it’s a bargain he can’t pass up. The bike show might be an inane waste of his time, but Gavroche and Courf questioning him about Grantaire would be infinitely worse.

“Fine. I’ll come to your goddamn bike show if that makes you happy.”

“Tsk tsk, Enjolras, you don’t swear in front of kids.”

“You are hardly a kid, Gav. I’ve caught you saying much worse.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

*

25 May 2014

It’s only been ten minutes since Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Gavroche got to the tracks where the bike show is being held, and Enjolras is already regretting the decision to come. The place is crowded and people are much too loud, sweaty, and cheery for his taste. Ite has the feel of a ransack carnival and Enjolras can feel a headache slowly creeping up his temples.

“People of the city! Welcome to our Bi-annual Bike Show!” A voice announces over the loudspeaker system.

“This time, we have nine contestants competing. They will show you their tricks, and amuse you with their thrills, and leave you clutching the front of your seats. Please join me in welcoming the first of the nine, M. Aguillard!”

The audience breaks into applause and lurid hoots echo throughout. Then, there is the whizzing of a motorbike and a man in jeans and a leather jacket comes out of nowhere and parks his bike in the middle of the field.

“M. Bahorel!”

Gavroche stands up and cheers loudly as his friend comes in center field.

“M. Bossuet!”

“M. Combeferre!”

Enjolras feels an elbow poke into his side. He looks up to see Courf staring at the Combeferre guy with almost literal hearts in his eyes.

“I have dibs on that one.”

“Shut it, Courf. You don’t even know him,” Enjolras huffs.

“I so do. We are already dating.”

Enjolras’ mouth falls open, but he quickly retorts back, “In your head, you mean.”

“Nope! He’s the guy I’ve been seeing for the past two weeks.”

This time, Enjolras’ mouth falls open, and stays open. Half of him thinks that Courf is just messing with him, but the other half of him is not so convinced. He feels betrayed because he is Courf’s best friend, and everyone Courfeyrac dates for longer than a week, inevitably ends up getting the ‘If You Hurt Him’ talk from Enjolras. But Courf has never mentioned this Combeferre guy in front of him, and he feels oh-so-very deceived.

“Hello! Earth to Enjolras. Caught you unaware now, didn’t I?” Courf raises the corner of his lips in a little smile.

Enjolras notices his still open mouth and immediately closes it.

“You never brought him home,” is all he can say.

“Enjolras, has anyone ever told you that surprise looks good on you?”

“No…”

“And this is why you didn’t hear about Combeferre. I’ll introduce you to him after the competition, fine?”

“Alright. Fine. You still could have told me, Courf. I’m your best friend.”

Enjolras crosses his arms over his chest and turns away from Courfeyrac.

While they were discussing Courfeyrac’s mysterious date, the announcer has already called another biker to the to the field. Enjolras honestly couldn’t care less about the other bikers, but sounds of familiar syllables ring in his ears and he turns his attention back to the field.

“…taire”

Enjolras feels his jaw drop again because Grantaire looks _gorgeous_. There is simply no other word for it, and Enjolras has to let himself admit it. It might be a Strange Attraction, but it’s an attraction all right. He prides himself on being honest to himself and while he can ignore the Feelings for now, he cannot deny that he is almost salivating at the sight of R shirtless, wearing only that leather jacket, and his heart beat sounds like a distant drum.

While he might have confessed his Attraction to himself, he absolutely does not want his friends to become aware of it. Gavroche already has some inkling, and that is bad enough. He forcefully looks away from R, and tries to gauge in the other bikers. All nine of them are assembled on the field now; Enjolras must have missed the announcer calling the rest of the bikers while he was busy ogling at R.

The next two hours are a torture for Enjolras. He had been able to ignore Grantaire during their correspondence on Gavroche’s case, but right now, he is everywhere, doing amazing tricks on his bike, and stunts Enjolras thought weren’t even physically possible. He leaps through tiny fire rings like it means nothing, and backflips with his motorbike as though he’s cushioned by clouds. Even though Enjolras knows next to nothing about bike show gimmicks, it’s clear to him that Grantaire is quite possibly the best of the lot. The sight of Grantaire enamors him, but if he starts becoming hard in his trousers, he’s never going to forgive himself.

The show ends and sure enough, Grantaire wins the prize.

Gavroche runs off to celebrate with his friends, and Enjolras and Courfeyrac are left standing behind.

“Come on!” Courfeyrac say. “Let me introduce you to Combeferre!”

“Oh yes, of course. Your secret boyfriend.”

The crowd has narrowed down by now, and the two of them make their way over to where the bikers are standing around chatting with the audience.

Before they can reach Combeferre though, Enjolras spots Grantaire and the strange signs of Attraction start haunting him again. He reasons that the best way to get rid of them is to talk to Grantaire. By confronting Grantaire, his body might realize that attractions aren’t worth it.

“Hold on, Courf. I need to talk to R. Congratulate him. For winning.”

If Courf notices that Enjolras sounds slightly breathless, he never mentions it.

“Oh yeah, sure. Let’s do that.”

Enjolras reaches R, and clamps a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. The leather jacket R is wearing is cold to touch, and it sends a wild jolt through his body, that he once again decides to ignore.

“Hey!” he says.

R turns around, and meets Enjolras’ gaze.

“Hi, Enjolras.”

“Uhm, congratulations, R. That was really great, what you did out there. Uhm.” He doesn’t know what else to say and he is getting slightly flustered, and he really hopes no one notices, because that is so out of character for him.

Grantaire gives him a smile in return.

“Why thank you, Enjolras. I’m glad you enjoyed my little tricks.”

“Little? What do you mean, little! They were great.” He crosses his arms over his chest defensively, and Grantaire mimics the motion.

Enjolras’ looks down and follows the motion of Grantaire’s arms, and there is that goddamn leather jacket again. It’s black, and shifts so smoothly when R moves his arms, it almost like a raven beating its outstanding wings against a merry sky. It’s snug over Grantaire’s chest and he looks like he was born to wear it. Enjolras is usually not one to make poetic comparisons in his head, but something about Grantaire and that jacket _feels_ very right. Enjolras is still trying to figure out why Grantaire is an exception to his self-imposed rules, when the husky voice makes him face R again.

“No, they weren’t. My ‘stunts’ with my bike are nowhere as great as your passionate speeches, Apollo.”

“Apollo? What do you mean?”

Enjolras is only _moderately_ stunned.

“Oh, no, nothing, ignore that. I just love my mythology. Anyway, thanks for coming to the show. I’m pretty sure this is not your usual scene.”

“You are right, R, it isn’t. It was nice to watch though, and I’m glad I came by.”

“So am I, Enjolras, so am I.”

Courf coughs from somewhere behind Enjolras, and he looks up to see his best friend standing with Combeferre. While he was talking to Grantaire, Enjolras’ entire world had been narrowed down to the man in front of him (and the leather jacket), and he is a little surprised to see Courf there.

“Hey, R, congratulations,” Courf easily supplies.

Enjolras is certain that Courf has spotted the minor blush that is rising up his cheeks, but his best friend just gives Enjolras a _knowing_ look and chooses not the mention anything else.

Besides, if Enjolras spends the next two days pondering over the meaning of R’s last sentence and googling Apollo mythologies, no one has to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea who the person in that photograph is. I found the picture somewhere on tumblr, and freaked out because the model looked almost exactly like I imagined Grantaire to look like in this AU. I simply _had_ to include the pic in this chapter.


	3. The Biker’s Arms (Stability)

14 June 2014

It takes all of Enjolras’ strength to stop screaming out “Damn you Courf!” as he walks down the street, carrying heavy plastic bags filled with their groceries for the week. Courf and Ferre have been going steady for over a month now, and this morning, Courfeyrac had pushed Gavroche and Enjolras out of the house, after handing him a grocery list and the words, “Combeferre is coming over today. I suggest you two stay away from home till early evening, unless you want to hear sounds of an extremely sexual nature.”

Gavroche had whistled and congratulated Courf, before rushing off to the park.

Enjolras liked Combeferre a whole lot; they were alike in many ways, and got along extremely well, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed getting kicked out of his own house on a Saturday morning. He liked to think he was a good friend though, so he didn’t protest as much as he would like too. He simply carried off his laptop to a coffee shop, and spent the morning doing work, definitely _not_ thinking about Grantaire.

The biker has been on Enjolras’ mind since the Incident At The Show, and he is reluctantly starting to believe that the Weird Feelings and Strange Attractions he feels in R’s presence might mean something. He has been extremely careful not to let anyone know about them, or else his carefully created persona of an emotionless epitome of justice would be shattered. He has also tried to avoid R as much as possible, but regularly facing him is unavoidable now. R and Enjolras’ friend groups have sort of merged into one ever since Courf and Ferre had started dating.

What is completely avoidable though, is leaning against a wall when Enjolras gets tired carrying the weighty grocery bags.  All the effort he put into avoiding R runs down the drain when he spots a very familiar figure, wearing a dark purplish T-shirt and black trousers, coming out of a shop and walking towards him.

“Enjolras?” The figure asks by way of greeting.

There is something not quite right about the figure though, and it takes all of Enjolras’ efforts to stop searching for the difference and reply to the greeting.

“Hey. R. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same,” R smiles, and it’s then that Enjolras notices what’s wrong.

“Your, your- hair!” he splutters out.

R runs a hand through his previously long hair, and pauses it at the back of his neck.

“Ah yeah, I cut it. It’s getting too hot for me to keep my wild mess.”

“Oh,” is all Enjolras can manage to say.

He loved R’s previous hair, and he sometimes dreamed about running his fingers through it, but this new haircut does different kinds of things to Enjolras. He had never thought about anyone’s hair looking sexy, but R’s new cut is most certainly sexy.

Of course, he’s Enjolras, which means he’s probably never going to tell R he thinks that, not right now at least, and he should leave the scene before he can embarrass himself further.

“Well, I guess I’ll take my leave now,” he says.

“What were you doing here anyway?”

“Oh, Combeferre came over this morning, and Courf kicked me out along with a grocery list. I was just walking back home with groceries, and I hadn’t expected them to be this heavy. I was just pausing to take a breath.”

“I’m sorry. Oh, poor you! Do you mind a ride home? My bike’s just around the corner.”

Now that catches Enjolras’ attention. He wants to refuse, because he knows accepting now will only increase his attraction towards R. R seems to sense his reluctance, and he says, “Come on, Apollo! Those bags are heavy. You probably cannot carry them all the way home without hurting your arms. I can take you home, it won’t be a bother.”

Enjolras decides to ignore the Apollo comment, but he sees the logic- the bags are heavy and his arms are already tired, so he accepts the offer. “Yeah, it would be nice if you could do that.”

“Great!” R says enthusiastically. He bends down to pick up Enjolras’ grocery bags, and his shirt rides up a little. Enjolras shivers at the sight of that tiny sliver of skin. Once again, he is reminded of wheat fields and golden sunsets. Grantaire’s arms are extremely well built too, and he can’t stop staring. He wonders what it would be like to grab them, and trace the few bulging veins with his fingertips. He wants to lightly trail his way down the arm hair, and finally rest his palm in R’s. He maybe even wants to run his tongue down them.

“Alright, follow me!” R says, and Enjolras pushes back all his filthy thoughts. He walks behind R, and sure enough, there is the motorbike standing around the corner. R opens the little box that’s behind the bike and dumps Enjolras’ bags into it. He then easily jumps over the bike, settling down on the seat and leans forward, crossing his hands on top of the handles.  Enjolras finds the sight sensual and while he is no artist or poet, he wants to capture the moment forever.

“What are you waiting for? Hop on!” R says.

“I’ve never really been on a motorbike,” Enjolras confesses.

“Oh, okay. It’s really easy. Come on, stand to the right, grab my arms with both your hands and put your right foot on the little pedal-like thing over there. Then throw your weight on my shoulders and hop on! It’s super easy, like climbing a horse. I won’t let you fall.”

It’s almost as if R has been reading his thoughts, and is tantalizing him, because Enjolras knows that he can’t touch R’s arms without _parts_ of him probably doing something problematic. He wants to run away, but all his groceries are with R now, so he has no choice but to follow the instructions.

He grabs R’s arms, and they are as taut as they looked from afar. His heart starts doing the weird drum thing again, and he’s tingly all over, but he still manages to climb the bike. He does not know how exactly he achieves that seemingly impossible feat.

Once he is on top of the bike, R says, “I don’t have an extra helmet. You have to put your arms around my middle and hold on so that you don’t fall.”

Touching R’s arms is one thing, but tightly winding his arms around R’s well-formed abdomen is another thing altogether. There is something cinematic about the situation, and Enjolras feels like his arms were meant to fit around R’s abdomen. R feels strong and stable. R feels comfy. He tries to immediately reprimand himself for those thoughts, but fails. He spends the rest of the ride bantering with R and trying to ignore the feel of ripped muscle beneath his hands.

The banter is good for him, he decides. It keeps his apprehension about the ride away. While he and R might not see eye to eye on many issues, he discovers that this just ensures that they never run out of topics to talk about. Talking with R is fascinating, even though some of R’s opinions leave him frustrated.

When they reach his apartment block, Enjolras realizes that he has no idea how to get off the bike without falling down.

“Uhm, R? I can’t get down.”

“Don’t worry, Apollo. I’ll help you.”

There it is, the mythological comparison again, and Enjolras wants to know what he means, but he needs to get off the bike first.

“Okay, Enjolras. Remove your hands from around my tummy and place them on my shoulders, okay?”

Enjolras blushes, but he does as R says. R raises a hand and clutches Enjolras’ right wrist tightly.

“Alright now, slowly swing your leg around, and get off just the way you climbed on. I’m holding your hand, so you won’t fall off.”

“Okay.” Enjolras knows he sounds shaky and he hates himself for feeling so. R’s hand feels warm on his wrist, and the longer it stays there, the hotter it keeps feeling, until Enjolras is sure that he is going to burn from the touch. But there is nothing he can do except for following R’s instructions.

Once Enjolras is safely on the ground, R releases his hold over Enjolras’ wrist, and climbs off the bike himself. He unlocks the box behind the bike and pulls out Enjolras’ bags.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“It was my pleasure.” R smiles, and while Enjolras is usually not the best when it comes to reading people’s expressions, R’s looks a little flustered himself. Enjolras isn’t sure what that means. He just holds his hands out for R to hand him the grocery bags, but R refuses.

“Oh no, I’m going to help you carry these bags up.”

“You don’t have to R, you’ve already helped me enough.”

“Well then, what difference is one more gesture going to make? Lead the way.”

Enjolras enters the building and climbs the stairs to the second floor. R follows.

Once they reach his apartment door, R wordlessly hands the grocery bags to Enjolras. There is an extremely awkward pause as they stare at each other for a moment and Enjolras breaks the silence.

“Well,” he says. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, same, I’ll see you around too, Apollo.”

R turns to start walking back down when Enjolras shouts, “Wait.”

“What is it Apollo?” R asks.

“Yeah, that’s it. Apollo. Why do you call me that?”

R has the gall to smirk in a way which evokes the dreaded Gav-smirkTM.

He then pulls a hip flask out of his pocket and takes a swig. His face looks extremely red, and Enjolras is certain the rouge means something. He just can’t figure out what.

“Give me your hand,” R says.

That was definitely not the reply Enjolras was expecting. He needs an answer to the Apollo question, not a drink.

“What?”

“Oh, come on!”

R pulls Enjolras’ arm towards him, and pushes up the sleeve of his Henley. The hip flask disappears and R pulls out a Sharpie from seemingly nowhere. Enjolras feels something moving on his arm and looks down to see R scribbling a phone number on it.

“Call me. And then go out for dinner with me. I’ll tell you what I mean.”

R then winks at Enjolras and leaves.

Enjolras is left staring at the space vacated by R, his arm still up in the air, wondering if the Weird Feelings and Strange Attractions he feels for R might be reciprocated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork featured in this chapter is Jay's. Yes, the very one that inspired this fic!


	4. The Biker’s Eyes (Commitment)

20 June 2014

It’s 7PM on a Friday night, and Enjolras has his dinner ( _date?_ ) with Grantaire in about an hour. R is going to pick him up from home, and then drive him to a restaurant, The Polish Corner, that was recommended by Enjolras’ friend, Feuilly.

Enjolras feverishly stares at the piles of clothes he has laid out on his bed, and wonders which one to wear. He is good at dressing up for business meetings and dinners at fancy places. He even knows the perfect attire for trips to ‘hipster’ coffee shops.

However, Enjolras has absolutely no idea about what he should wear to the dinner. He knows he should dress down, but he doesn’t want to be too casual either. He is slightly nervous and he wants his outfit to be perfect, because this dinner is probably a chance to talk about the Feelings he has been suppressing. He doesn’t want to mess it up.

He paces around the room, occasionally throwing a glance at the pile on his bed, and wishes he possessed some kind of a magic crystal ball that would tell him what to wear. Unfortunately, such a ball doesn’t exist, so he decides to call his trusty flat-mate who has been out on lots of dates, and is now in a steady relationship.

“Courfff! Can you come over to my room? I need your help.”

“Just a moment!” Courf’s voice shouts back.

Roughly ten seconds later both Courfeyrac and Combeferre stand in his room staring at the pile he has laid out. Of course, it’s a Friday, so Combeferre is over at their apartment. Enjolras usually doesn’t mind him coming over, because Combeferre is amazing and has the ability to read Enjolras’ mind.

Right now though, Courfeyrac is shaking his head pitifully, and Combeferre snickers lightly, and Enjolras minds that very, very much.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre asks, “how long have you had a crush on Grantaire?”

The question takes Enjolras by surprise.  

“I, what?” he splutters out. “A crush? That’s disgusting! And wrong. I don’t even get- why would- I’ve never had a crush on anyone, ever. It’s none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, Grantaire is annoying, technically. And he is terrible, face-wise. Also, have you seen his hair? He looks like a- like a- anyway his arms are ugly. His, his, body- looks like a flattened meatloaf.” Enjolras feels his face heat up, but he can’t stop the babble that’s coming out his mouth. He words are usually crisp and apt, but when he feels off balance, his words are dreadfully affected too. “And how- how- do I know, frankly, that you don't have a crush on him? Maybe you do. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off? Maybe both of you are. Do you all want to get in a- a- polyamorous relationship?”

He stops and looks at the faces of both his friends in turn. Combeferre looks like he is scrutinizing Enjolras. Courfeyrac has an expression of utmost disbelief on his face.

“What?” Enjolras asks softly.

Courfeyrac leans forward, and wraps his arms around Enjolras’ body. He buries his head in Enjolras’ neck, and nuzzles his shoulder.

“Oh, poor you!” He says.

“I don’t have a crush on Grantaire,” Enjolras tries to say matter-of-factly, but fails.

Instead, he is extremely confused. He has called his friends here so that they could help him pick out an outfit, not give him an impromptu hug and ask him questions that make him jabber gibberish.

His confusion increases exponentially when he feels another pair of arms wrap behind him. He goes still, because Combeferre has never hugged him before, and the hug feels wonderful. Enjolras has never been a very tactile person; he tends to avoid hugs, and even handshakes as much as possible, but in that moment, clinging on to his best friend and his boyfriend seems the perfect thing to do.

He feels Courf pat his back, and whisper, “Oh, darling. You have no idea.”

“No idea about what?” He whispers back.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says with a sigh.

The three of them stand that way for a while, and Enjolras’ dam bursts open. All the thoughts he has been subduing start flowing out.

“Fine. I may be attracted to R, I may have been, since- since- I first saw him! But that’s not the same thing as having a crush. Is it? I don’t think so. Today is just dinner, and I don’t know why I am worrying. He can’t be attracted back to me. I am not his type- I am not anyone’s type. I know I look good by- by- societal standards, and I know how to exploit my looks when needed. But my personality, no- no! No one falls for that, ever.  I am a jerk to people, period. I can’t be free with my emotions. I try to be normal and social, but it’s just not in me. I can’t keep up. Why would anyone- like me?” His voice rises in crescendo as he speaks, and nearly breaks at the end.

Combeferre removes his arms from around Enjolras, and gently guides him to a chair. Courf pushes Enjolras into it.

“Enjolras. Why do you deny yourself so much?”

“I don’t know,” is his honest reply. “Maybe I am afraid of rejection. Of appearing weak. I’ve always been this way and I can’t change it.” He shrugs his shoulders.

Courfeyrac kneels down in front of him and places his arms on Enjolras’ knees.

“You know we love you, right? You never have to worry about being rejected in front of us. And we would never think you weak.”

“Yeah, but it just feels extremely silly and superficial, you know? I am 28, and I’ve never been intensely attracted to anyone before. Even if I were, I’ve kept those feelings in check. It feels safer to hide behind familiar walls. I know this sounds illogical when spoken out loud, but I swear, it all makes perfect sense in my head.”

He looks up and sees both his friends looking at him with gentle understanding in their eyes. “Wow. I can’t believe I just admitted that,” he continues. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“What you are going to do,” Combeferre says firmly, but not harshly, “is dress in the clothes I give you. Then, you are going to do your hair, and go for dinner with R. You will be nice to him, and you can try to flirt with him if you feel comfortable enough. Who knows, he might return your feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s likely,” Enjolras says.

“You never know. Besides, he scribbled his number on your arm. And invited you for dinner. Alone.” Courf replies with a wink.

Enjolras just rolls his eyes.

Combeferre hands him a pair of skinny black cotton trousers and a plain white button up.

“Wear these. Also, that red jacket you have will go well with them.”

“Thank you. Both of you.” Enjolras says. “You are the best friends I could have ever wished for. You saw right through me. I am glad, and I cannot find words to express my gratitude.”

Enjolras has calmed down now and is back to his old self. He changes into the clothes Ferre handed to him and waits for R on the couch. Courf and Ferre settle down on either side of him. Ferre has thrown a comforting arm around his shoulder and Courf runs his fingers through Enjolras’ hair.He feels relaxed and content now.

Too soon, the door bell rings and Enjolras gets up to open the door. Courf catches his arm and gently squeezes it.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

When Enjolras opens the door, he is greeted with the sight of Grantaire leaning against the other wall, wearing the leather jacket Enjolras loves so much. It looks like he has forgotten to shave, because there is a two-day-old scruff on his face, and Enjolras really, really likes the way that looks. When Grantaire notices Enjolras come out, he smiles, and this sends jolts of electricity to Enjolras’ stomach.

“Hi,” he smiles back.

“Apollo,” Grantaire says with a little bow and holds out his hand. “Let’s go, shall we.”

Enjolras stares at the hand in bewilderment.

“Oh,” he mouths softly when he realizes he is supposed to take the hand. He does so, and is rewarded with another of Grantaire’s smiles. Grantaire’s hand feels incredibly huge in his. It is cold to touch, but in a chill breeze on a sunny day way, not in a January snowstorm way.

Grantaire leads him down stairs, and they don’t say a word to each other. If Enjolras laces his fingers through R’s and R traces circles with his thumb on Enjolras’ hand, no one has to know. Soon they are by the bike again. Enjolras gulps.

“Come on, Apollo. You’ll be safe, I promise. Didn’t you enjoy it last time?”

“Yeah I did.” He is glad R has no idea _exactly_ how much he enjoyed it.

“Well, so you know what to do.”

R mounts on the bike, and Enjolras follows. He holds R’s middle and the man starts the bike.

As they ride through the neighborhood, Enjolras leans forward, and presses his chest to R’s back. He places his head on R’s shoulder, and takes a deep breath.

“So, why do you call me Apollo?” he asks, trying to sound as flirty as possible. He doesn’t know if it would work, but he has seen people in movies do this and he is willing to give it a try.

“Jesus Enjolras!” R says. “Way to take away a person’s breath. I’ll tell you over dinner.”

“Fine.” Enjolras pouts. R’s ear is extremely near his mouth, and it would be so easy to just turn around and kiss it, but Enjolras isn’t sure if that would be appreciated. He lets the thought go, and spends the rest of the ride in a silent bundle of nerves.

When they reach the restaurant, R helps Enjolras down, as he did the other day, but doesn’t let go of his hand. They walk to the front door, and R holds it open for him. Enjolras wonders if this display of chivalry means what he thinks it does.

They go inside, and Enjolras picks up the menu. He stares at it, wondering what to order. He has no idea what kind of soups ‘rosół z kury’ or ‘żurek’ are. Also, the main course names ‘żeberka w miodzie’ and ‘bigos myśliwski’ confuse him.

R has already ordered a bottle of wine, though, and poured a glass for both of them. He hands one to Enjolras, and they click them together. Enjolras takes a tiny sip and settles his glass down. He has never been a fan of alcoholic drinks, but he will drink the glass (albeit slowly) to appease R.

On the other hand R drowns his glass in one go. He seems to visibly calm down after it and tells Enjolras, “You should try żeberka w miodzie, you know. It’s ribs with honey and probably one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thanks, R.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Once again, they settle into a companionable silence, and Enjolras has no idea how to start conversation. He is not sure if he even wants to start conversation because in the past most of his and R’s talks have turned into arguments. He is still slightly confused about the whole situation, but he is enjoying it, and doesn’t want to ruin it with political arguments.

Luckily for him, R breaks the silence.

“You wanna know about the Apollo thing, right?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, and Enjolras immediately wonders what it would be like to wake up next to it.

“Yeah,” he yelps.

R leans conspiratorially close to Enjolras.

“Have you seen yourself?”

God, that voice! Enjolras wants to move closer and press a kiss to his lips, but he stops himself. Enjolras may not be the best with social customs, but he knows that that would be too forward.

Instead he says, “Yes I have. I own mirrors you know.”

“Well then, have you seen pictures of Apollo sculptures? The Greek God, marble figure, golden hair? Yeah? You remind me of him.”

Enjolras feels incredulous. He had spent days obsessively googling Apollo, but he had never made the connection between his looks and Apollo’s. He looks down and stares at his lap.

“Do you like the way Apollo looks?” he dares.

“Yeah,” R replies.

Enjolras looks up to meet R’s eyes. He has never really noticed them before, but they are tiny and very, very, very black. They shouldn’t be attractive, but somehow they work on R’s face. He is reminded of starless nights that he always loved as a kid. There are traces of Black Beauty and Raven harbingers of powerful secrets. They are cliché black hole metaphors. Enjolras feels he couldn’t be more in love.

While he has been mentally pontificating over the beauty of R’s eyes, he suddenly realizes that R has been studying his eyes. He doesn’t know what they must look like at that moment. R’s gaze makes him feel open and vulnerable.

Some sort of understanding passes between their eyes, and Enjolras is reminded of one of his favorite quotes, one of those he’ll never admit to liking. _‘Sunlight bent around the world, lending fragile color to wildflowers.’_

That is exactly what the moment felt like.

It shouldn’t stop there though, so Enjolras raises a hand and gently cups R’s cheek. The scruff on R’s cheek is prickly beneath his palm, and it does things to him. He is certain that he looks completely wrecked right now.

R looks as spellbound as Enjolras. He clears his throat and leans forward. Those eyes Enjolras loves are about a palm’s distance away from him now, and Enjolras is sure he’s going to feel a kiss soon.

Unfortunately for them, Enjolras hears someone cough behind them. Their waiter has arrived and Enjolras drops his palm from R’s cheek. R moves back in his chair.

Enjolras blushes and averts his eyes.

The glorious moment has passed, and the two of them eat their meals in relative tranquility. The talk about little things- politics, philosophy, economics, and Enjolras tries his best not to get riled up at anything. He likes the peace that has descended over them.

It isn’t as good as the almost kiss, but now he knows R is attracted to him as well. He is sure they will share plenty of kisses in the future.

The future couldn’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://montparnah.tumblr.com/post/113310034818/combeferre-how-long-have-you-had-a-crush-on) is the text post that is included in this chapter (albeit in a slightly modified form).
> 
> I got all the info on Polish food from [Aleksandra](http://quicsilverpietro.tumblr.com/), and here is the description of the dishes mentioned on the menu:   
> żeberka w miodzie: ribs with honey  
> bigos myśliwski: hunter’s stew   
> rosół z kury: traditional broth  
> żurek: popular Polish soup with no English equivalent
> 
> The quote _"Sunlight bent around the world, lending fragile color to wildflowers."_ is from my favorite book, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.


	5. The Biker’s Lips (Bliss)

9 July 2014

“Enjolras! Your boyfriend’s calling you!” Gavroche’s voice makes him look up from his laptop screen. He sees the 12 year old standing nearby holding his phone in his hand. The last time Enjolras checked, his phone was still in his back pocket. He crooks his eyebrow angrily at Gavroche. He had been getting better at catching Gavroche’s tricks, but the kid still manages to stump him. Enjolras is definitely not pleased, and the smug tone in Gavroche’s voice does nothing to comfort him.

“What boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Grantaire.” Gavroche says impishly.

“Why would he call me? Anyway, he’s not my boyfriend,” Enjolras replies firmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep lying to yourself. You are really good at it.”

Enjolras decides that Gavroche is very, very infuriating, and he would very much like to murder the kid if he could get away with it.

“Just give me my goddamn phone.” Enjolras holds his hand out.

He is treated with a Gav-smirkTM and his phone lands in his palm.

“Give him my love,” Gav says. He makes disguising kissing noises and runs out of the room.

Ever since their almost kiss, he and R have been texting each other daily. They are mostly light and fluffy discussions about politics and myths, which occasionally turn into mild flirting. They haven’t talking about their feelings or their attractions towards each other, and Enjolras is glad, because he would rather have that conversation face to face.

They haven’t called each other even once though, mostly because Enjolras is too nervous to call, and R has been busy with B.A.C.A. things.

This is why he looks at the ringing phone in his hand with surprise. What could be so important that R had to call? The more he thinks about it, the faster his heart beats, until he finally takes a deep calming breath and swipes his finger across the screen.

“Hello,” he says tentatively.

“Apollo!” R’s brilliant voice makes his smile. He feels his beating heart slow down into a calm, drumming rhythm. He was nervous for no reason.

“R! How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

There is something off about R’s voice, so Enjolras enquires, “Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.”

He hears R laugh at the other end.

“Might have had a bit too much to drink, but I’m okay otherwise. I just wanted to hear your voice for now.”

Enjolras intakes a breath, “Oh.”

R laughs again, and it’s a deep and sonorous sound that goes straight to Enjolras’ heart.

“Has anyone told you how wonderful you sound when you are speechless?”

“Please, I am never speechless.”

“Tsk, tsk I could make you speechless.” There is a thrilling edge to R’s tone and Enjolras is aroused.

“I dare you to try.” His heart is beating in wild patters again. He has never been so straightforward in his life, but he hopes he is doing it right.

“Do you want to meet for dinner again?”

“Yes!” He wonders if he sounds overeager.

“Alright. 7:30pm tomorrow. Will you be free?”

Enjolras has his schedule memorized. He knows he has to work on a presentation tomorrow. Normally, he hates breaking routine, but this is _Grantaire_ , the only person he has ever been truly attracted to. He might as well cast away any semblance of normality that remains.

“I will make time,” he says.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7!”

“Is it a date?” he tentatively questions.

Grantaire is silent, and Enjolras wonders if he has misread the situation. He thought things were pretty clear, but he has been wrong when it comes to social customs before. He could have unwittingly made R uncomfortable, and is about to apologize, when R says, “If you want it to be.”

“Do _you_ want it to be a date, R?”

There is another pause.

“Yes.”

“Nice. I want it to be one too, I think. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Shh… it’s a surprise, Apollo.”

“I hate surprises.”

“You will like this one.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you too. Good bye, Enjolras.”

“Bye,” he says softly.

He spends the rest of the day in a cloud of bliss. He has a feeling tomorrow might be the best day of his life.

*

10 July 2014

“Enjolras, stop singing in the shower. You sound like a broken record and I’m trying to work,” Courf’s muffled shout rises above the noise of the shower.

“Sorry! I’ll shut up now,” Enjolras shouts back. He hadn’t realized how loudly he was singing. He has his ‘surprise’ date with Grantaire in a while, and he feels more excited that he has ever felt. He doesn’t know where he is going, but R’s tone on the phone made him feel like it’s nowhere super fancy. He has decided to trust his instinct and dress prettily. Combeferre would probably call the outfit a bit scandalous, but he’s proud of what he has put together.

He gets out of the shower, and wears light grey jeans artfully torn at the knees. He pairs it with a black crop top, and a floral chiffon shirt that he leaves unbuttoned. He puts on grey lacey oxfords to complete the look. He combs his hair and turns to admire himself in the mirror. He is pretty sure R’s eyes are not going to leave him all night.

He walks to the living room. Courf takes one look at him and whistles.

“Going somewhere fun, now, are we?”

“I have a date with R,” he replies smugly.

Courf gets up from his seat, and wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Aww, look at my Enjy-baby all grown up! Just a few weeks ago you were reluctant to admit your feelings and now look at you! You look adorrrrrrrable,” he says dramatically.

“Thanks, Courf,” Enjolras replies saltily.

“You’re welcome. But no, really, I mean it. Congratulations, Enjolras. I am glad you opened up to us that day. R will be good for you.”

Enjolras can’t help but smile widely at his best friend.

Too soon, the doorbell rings, and Enjolras and Grantaire are walking hand in hand down the stairs. Once they are by the motorbike, R looks at him appreciatively. “I thank the God’s for your fashion sense,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Enjolras smiles back. They get on the motorbike, and Enjolras grabs R around the waist, as usual. This time though, he dares to lean forward, and presses a kiss under R’s ear.

“Jesus, Enjolras! Don’t do that again. Else I’m gonna crash my bike, Jesus!”

A shot of fear jolts Enjolras. Has be moved too fast? He immediately withdraws his head from R’s shoulder, and stops pressing against the man.

“I am sorry,” Enjolras says frankly.

“Oh no, I got that all wrong. Don’t be sorry. Be the very opposite of sorry. I liked it. A whole lot. It just took me by surprise. And you have a very nice mouth.”

Enjolras replies by pressing another kiss at the same spot.

Grantaire groans in pleasure and Enjolras feels very, very happy.

“You liked it,” Enjolras whispers in his ear. It is not a question.

Grantaire gives the tiniest of nods.

“Then I will do it again.”

“Calm down, Apollo. You’ll have plenty of time to do this once we get there.”

“Where exactly is there.”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. Enjolras occasionally presses his lips to Grantaire’s neck, and R makes a tiny noise each time that Enjolras loves. The ride seems to go on forever and it’s not like Enjolras is complaining, because he has R with him, but he still feels slightly unsteady over bikes.

“We are almost there. Close your eyes, Enjolras,” R says.

“No. I’m scared.”

“I won’t let you come to harm. I promise.”

“I trust you,” Enjolras says, “but I can’t help feeling apprehensive.”

“It’s natural. Can you maybe humor me for once, though? Please.”

“Fine. Only cause it’s you though.”

Enjolras closes his eyes. The lack of information from his visual field makes him super attuned to everything else. He tightens his hold on R, and he is sure it must be pretty painful for the man. He also digs his chin onto R’s shoulder, and doesn’t let go.

He feels the wind whizz past him, and his bare stomach clenches because of the cold. He catches a whiff of wet earth and briefly toys with the idea that R is a wood nymph taking him to his forest home. R could definitely be a wood nymph; he looks the part and his personality is somehow woody as well. Enjolras almost laughs at the ridiculousness of his thoughts, when R exclaims, “Alright! We are there. Don’t open your eyes yet.”

“Well, I’m not going to get off this bike with my eyes closed,” Enjolras says flatly.

“Who says _you_ are getting yourself off the bike?”

“I am not…?”

“Nope.”

Enjolras feels R’s hands on his wrists. He separates them, and Enjolras feels his right hand being intertwined with R’s. He feels R’s leg swing over the bike, and he instinctively knows that R has turned around in his seat. He then feels R’s other hand rest over his shoulder.

“Open your eyes.”

Enjolras obeys, and he sees R’s face very close to his. As Enjolras expected, they are out of town and are standing in the middle of a field of some sort that merges into a forest in the distance. It’s a bright and starry night, and the place looks beautiful. It’s the sort of scene romantic avant-garde movie directors love and Enjolras thinks about how cliché all this is, but it also feels nice. The man he likes is inches away from him, and Enjolras just has to move slightly forward to kiss him. He isn’t going to let anyone interrupt this moment like their last one was.

He locks his eyes on his target. R must have been biting his lips earlier, because they are slightly red and plumped. Enjolras lifts up his left hand and traces R’s lips with his fingertips.  R shudders under his touch.

“Can I kiss you?” Enjolras asks.

“Please.” R replies. His voice is heavy again and Enjolras couldn’t be more in love.

He closes the distance between them. At first it’s an almost chaste kiss. Enjolras hasn’t kissed anyone in a while, but R’s lips are slightly salty, and Enjolras loves the feel of them under his lips. Kissing him this way doesn’t feel strange or awkward. The prickly skin around R’s lips is heavenly, and Enjolras wants it to leave bruises all over his body.

R removes his hand from Enjolras’ and places it on the back of his neck to pull him closer. Enjolras feels R’s tongue over his lips and he parts his lips, giving way to it. R’s mouth is a wonderful blend of whiskey, coffee, and peppermint. Enjolras has never liked the taste of anything quite as much, and he would be content to keep sucking face with R forever.

Except he can’t. He has to pause for air.

When he removes his lips from R’s, he finds the man looking at him the way an artist looks at a beautiful painting. His black eyes mysteriously look blacker than ever, and Enjolras whispers, “I think I might be in love with you.”

“I feel the same,” R replies.

Enjolras wants to kiss him again, and leans in to do so, when R says, “Wait.”

“Why?” Enjolras pouts.

“Oh, Apollo, the night is young, and we have all the time in the world. Let’s get off this bike and let me lay down a blanket, so that we can have dinner.”

Enjolras had forgotten he was still sitting on the bike. There was no more fear, only the calm reassurance of being loved.

R helps him down the bike, and removes a plethora of picnic things from the box on his motorbike. They spread the blanket and sit down. The night ages, their feasting turns into kisses and they move closer and closer, passionately uttering their precious words.

“Be my boyfriend?” R questions.

“Like you even have to ask,” Enjolras says with an eye roll. “I was gone ages ago.”

A light wind blows, and Enjolras shivers because he is scantily dressed for the weather. R pulls him close and hugs him tight. He then removes another blanket from the pile of picnic things and throws it over both of them. They lie down in each other’s arms and cuddle. The night is spent gazing stars and memorizing the feel of the other’s skin.

For once, everything in Enjolras’ life is perfect and he is truly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://feliciores.tumblr.com/post/116324925146/one-last-quick-enjolras-drawing-before-i-leave-for) is a link to the original post for the art work included in this chapter.


	6. The Biker, Himself

9 July 2019

Grantaire wakes up to the clanging of a horrendous alarm. He doesn’t want to get out of bed yet; it’s far too comfortable, but he needs to wake up. So he sits up, rubs his eyes to clear them and then picks up his phone to turn the alarm off.

He looks at the blond head of curls lying next to him, and feels a happiness rise in his chest. It’s been five years since he and Enjolras officially got ‘together’, but he is still surprised to see that Enjolras has stuck with him.

He presses a kiss to Enjolras’ head and smiles when Enjolras tries to pull him closer. “Stay,” the sleepy voice mumbles.

“Not now, I have work to do.”

Enjolras just groans, and turns the other way, pulling all the covers along with him. Grantaire smiles with happiness and gets out of bed. He had expected his boyfriend would be a morning person based on his general uptight demeanor, but Enjolras hates to get up before ten. Luckily for him, this means that he can easily prepare everything he wants to before Enjolras wakes up.

Grantaire takes a quick shower, and goes to the fridge to remove the croissant dough he had prepared last night. He sets about making Enjolras breakfast.

Five years with him have not been easy. The man is stubborn, and often uneasy with what he is feeling. They squabble a lot and have come close to a break up once. Luckily for them, their codependent circle of friends made them realize how childishly they were acting. They talked over their differences and moved into a shared apartment four months after.

R still struggles with alcoholism that he tried to hide from Enjolras during the early stages of their relationship, but the man has been nothing but supportive since he found out. He does not always understand what R is going through, but he is always there for him, and R appreciates that.

Also, sex with his personal, life-size version of Apollo is terrific. If everything works out as R has planned, Enjolras will no longer be his boyfriend by the end of today, but will be his fiancé.

R sticks the pastries in the oven and then sets about making coffee, chocolaty and minty, just the way Enjolras likes it. When all’s set and done, he goes to wake Enjolras up.

“Morning sunshine!” He says cheerfully.

“Ugh, let me sleep.”

Waking Enjolras up, especially on a holiday, is never easy. R sits down beside him, and pulls the covers off him.

“Stop acting like a petulant child, Enjolras.”

“What’s the time?”

“9:30. Wake up.”

“Tis too early…”

“Naughty boys don’t get to suck my dick.”

Now _that_ catches Enjolras’ attention. He blushes beet red.

“Fine. I’m getting out of bed.”

“Good boy,” R says teasingly.

“When you are dressed, come to the kitchen. I made us breakfast.”

“Will do,” Enjolras replies with a grumpy yawn.

R goes to the kitchen, and sits down on a chair to wait.

Enjolras enters the room, and the first thing he does is kiss Grantaire. Even after five years of being together, he never tires of Enjolras’ kisses and they make something warm settle in his belly.

“Happy Anniversary,” Enjolras says.

R is surprised he remembered because his future husband isn’t the best with dates.

“You too, darling. Come on now, let’s eat.”

Enjolras picks up a croissant and bites into it. R stares at his face to gauze his reaction.

“God, Arrrrrrrrr,” he moans. “This is heavenly. I could marry your cooking.”

“How about marrying me?” he asks tentatively.

Enjolras just gets up from his chair and kisses R again.

“I am glad I have you,” he whispers.

“Me too,” R replies back. “Will you answer my previous question?”

Enjolras doesn’t reply, and bites into his pastry instead. His eyes are downcast as he drowns his coffee cup in one go.

R is apprehensive because a silent Enjolras could mean anything. He might be too nervous to reply, or he might be angry with R for being so assuming. He bites his bottom lip and gets up to avoid the awkward silence. Before he walks away, Enjolras grabs his wrist and shoves an open box at him.

Enjolras’ eyes are wide and he is looking at R with utmost devotion in his eyes. Grantaire will forever cherish this moment, because his boyfriend had the same idea as him and got them matching rings for their anniversary. They are so in sync, it’s unbelievable.

“Are you going to ask me the question properly again, or should I do the honors?” Enjolras’ voice is pretty steady, but after spending five years together, Grantaire has learned to spot when Enjolras is faking it. He knows for sure now that Enjolras is nervous and his heart is probably beating extremely fast, just as it does whenever he is not exactly sure of himself.

He decides to tease Enjolras, but drops the idea immediately because he knows that Enjolras is very self-doubting when it comes to his role in the relationship. He would be distressed at the very hint of a rejection, especially since R sort of proposed to him earlier.

“Whatever you like,” R says diplomatically.

Enjolras chooses to get down on one knee and holds the box towards R.

“Grantaire. You are the first person I was ever truly attracted to and had feelings for. You will probably never know how relieved I was when I realized you reciprocated my feelings. Will you marry me?”

“Like you even have to ask,” R replies, echoing their promise from five years ago.

Enjolras rolls his eyes and slips the ring on Grantaire’s finger.

They kiss once again, and soon it turns into frenzied removal of each other’s clothes. The sex is amazing, and though Grantaire doesn’t really believe in any deities, he sends a silent prayer to the heavens. He blesses the day he joined B.A.C.A. and got Gavroche’s case. He blesses the day he participated in that bike show. He blesses the day he saw Enjolras standing in the shade of a building, struggling to carry a heavy weight. He blesses the day at the Polish restaurant, and the night at the fields. He blesses every single moment he has shared with Enjolras ever since.

His life further on may have ups and downs, but he will have the best man he has ever known beside him forever. And that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> The end is neigh upon us. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. It was a labor of love, and the longest work I ever completed, so it has a special place in my heart.
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts. I squee every time I read one. Comments make this author very, very happy.
> 
> Alternatively, come talk to me on [tumblr](http://cloudatles.tumblr.com/).


End file.
